


Platonic Love

by Aerial312



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28207410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aerial312/pseuds/Aerial312
Summary: A tag to 1x10, "Haven".
Relationships: William Riker/Deanna Troi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	Platonic Love

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like, for all the angst, this episode was a turning point for them. They seemed a lot more comfortable around each other after this episode.

Will sat slouched in his gray armchair, feet on the table alongside a stack of PADDs he planned to go through tonight. He had a drink in his hand, and more in the bottle on the table. Even though it was synthehol, he still preferred to replicate a bottle and pour his own. A few feet away, his two beautiful holographic women played their harps. He took a drink of the amber liquid in his glass. 

His door chimed, and Will's brow furrowed. He couldn't have just an hour to himself? "Come in." 

Deanna entered. He knew it was her, even though she had not yet said a word. That bond between them still existed on some level. 

"The music is beautiful," she said, crossing into the room to stand by his chair. "The harp is so soothing." She offered no commentary on the sexy women playing.

He looked up at her. She was easily as beautiful as either holographic woman. "It's my favorite way to relax."

"You call this relaxing?" she laughed gesturing to the stack of reading material. "Ten PADDS about technical specs and navigation?"

He smiled. "Some light reading."

She chuckled. "May I?" she pointed to his sofa. 

"Go ahead," he nodded. 

Deanna sat on the couch, leaning on the arm nearest him, with her feet curled up. She'd never been in his quarters before, and it was like she'd been there a million times. He didn't hate it. 

"Would you like one?" he held up his glass. 

She contemplated it. "Will I like it?" she asked him, skeptically. 

Will shrugged. "Fifty-fifty." Her taste in drinks usually ran a little more tropical. He handed it to her. "If you don't like it, I'll finish it."

Deanna sniffed it, eyes wide. "Smells strong."

"It's synthehol. It's short lived." She took a sip, blinking as the bite hit her. "You hate it," Will laughed. 

"It's…not terrible." She took another sip and set it on the table. Deanna tilted her head to the left and to the right, back and forth a few times to stretch her neck, then rest her head on her palm, watching the ladies play the harp. 

"You should take your hair down."

Her gaze snapped back to meet his. "I've been wearing my hair like this for several years now."

"It's elegant," he agreed. "It just seemed like you were trying to shake out some tension, and that style…" He let his words trickle off. She'd always worn her hair mostly down when he knew her on Betazed, and this style seemed a little severe, if polished. 

Will wondered how much of this he was projecting. It has been over three years since he'd been stationed on Betazed, and he was definitely out of practice with shielding. But did he really care if she knew he preferred it down? Not really. She didn't say anything. If she could sense anything, she wasn't letting on. 

Deanna reached back and plucked out a few hair pins, then pulled free the red beading. She set both on the table, then shook her head, letting most of the style toppled undone, except for the very front. She looked stunning. This was the Deanna he remembered. His imzadi. He took a sip of his drink.

"What?" she asked, arching her eyebrow. 

"It, uh, looked more complicated than that—five hair pins and a necklace."

She laughed and took her drink in her hands. "You prefer it this way."

"I do," he admitted. "It's how I remember you."

"We've grown up a lot since then…" she paused to take a sip, "I know I have. I think you have as well."

He nodded. They'd been so uneasy with each other since he'd first came on the Enterprise that he'd never told her anything about the Potemkin and serving under Captain DeSoto. He'd like to, as some point. She'd always had sage wisdom when he talked of the Pegasus. 

"You seem to like it all right," he said, nodding towards the drink she was holding. 

She shrugged. "It has been a long day." She leaned back again, now watching the harp players instead of him. 

He watched her for a few moments before asking carefully, "Are you disappointed with how things turned out?"

She didn't answer right away. "I am frustrated," she started. "With myself."

Deanna sat up and tucked her knees to her chest, looking at him plaintively. "Wyatt had the courage I did not. To stand up for himself. For what he truly wanted." 

Her big brown eyes were watering up. Will sat up but resisted the growing urge to scoot over and wrap her in his arms. Part of this struggle she was going through was that she needed to work through these issues for herself. 

Deanna continued, "I knew of the old tradition, I just never thought it would actually come to be. My father arranged it so long ago, and so much has changed since then. And Wyatt was a nice man, but…" She took another sip of her drink, then pursed her lips together, blinking hard. 

"But you have a career you love," Will offered. 

Deanna nodded, sitting up. "I do. I love my work. It is valuable and fulfilling…and the most important thing right now. More than any relationship."

There it was. And she was right. They were both going to put their jobs first right now. 

"You're very good at it," he told her, with absolute truth. 

"Thank you."

Will poured a little more into his own glass and held the bottle up to her. 

She laughed. "No, this is plenty. More than plenty." She swallowed down the rest of it and set her glass down. There was a comfortable silence for some time. Deanna lay her head down on her elbow. For a moment, he wasn't sure if she'd fallen asleep. 

"Will?" she asked, after a moment. "You really don't think you can understand platonic love?"

He hesitated. "I couldn't then, when you asked me about it on the holodeck…it seemed wrong. You were betrothed…"

"It upset you."

Yes, it had. But Will didn't answer. He had never been mad at her, just at the circumstances. 

"It upset me too." She took a deep breath. "I do love you, Will. But right now, it must be platonic."

"Why?" If he had been sober, he probably wouldn't have asked so bluntly, but right now it just came out. She looked so gorgeous sitting there on his sofa. 

"Right now, we need to find our own ways professionally—and personally—"

"As friends." It wasn't a question. 

"Absolutely." She tilted her head to look up at him. "You get it."

"I want to," he told her. "I—uh—don't have a lot of—uh—experience…with platonic love, Dea…"

She laughed, full voice, with a smile. "No, you are a very—physical—" 

"—Yes—"

"—being, and right now—"

"—We can't."

"We can't," ehe echoed. 

He took a deep breath. If he'd moved next to her earlier, he'd have never managed the restraint. "I do love you, Dea. In whatever way I need to for now."

She smiled, laying her head on the arm of his sofa. Will watched her for a moment, before turning back to the PADD he'd been reading. 

If this was platonic love, he could handle it.


End file.
